Treacherous Waters
by Asher Elric
Summary: Inspector Abberline has one last case he must solve for the good of Queen and Country. With help of his cousin Captain Jack Sparrow, can he find the secret that will save his country, or will Britian be brought down to its knees?
1. Chapter 1

Summary – Inspector Abberline's last case…

A/N – I have never written a from Hell fic before, and here I am doing a bloody cross over. However, I think it's a bloody good one. It's a cross over with pirates. And even that is AU though I think I shall keep From Hell the same. Since this happens after the movie.

* * *

**Treacherous Waters **

**Chapter 1 – Port**

**"If everything seems to be going well...you've overlooked somethng" annonimous**

* * *

It was as foggy inside the opium den as it was outside on the early morning of mid October. Sergeant Godly put out his cigarette as he walked inside. The man who rant he opium den and who most called "Emperor" came over and handed Godly several pounds. It was not unheard of the opium den owners to pay off the constables so that they could run their establishment. Godly pocketed the money before inquiring upon the location of his friend Inspector Frederick Abberline.

Most of the men knew that the Inspector was an addict; there were also rumors of the man's visions, that he had seen the Ripper kill before the murder even happened. Godly couldn't help but slightly admire the man. He didn't get where he was without his visions and his guts. Godly walked through the smoky haze of the opium den to find Abberline succumbed to sleep.

He raised his fist, and popped the inspector across the face hard.

"Good morning, Inspector," he said cheerfully, it was a manner that he had adopted for just such occasions for he knew it annoyed the inspector much.

"Godly, must you do that every time?" Abberline asked crossly as he sat up with the help of his friend.

"I must," Godly admitted. That was enough for Abberline as he found his coat and checked his pockets to make sure nothing was missing. Of course, the "Emperor" would never let anyone mess with Abberline, as he was the main customer of this particular opium den.

"We have a case," Godly informed Abberline as they made their way out of the den and into the early foggy air of London. Abberline and Godly climbed into a carriage and soon they were off to the Police Station on Fleming Street.

* * *

The body was covered in maggots and mostly rotten from the sea water it had been dumped into. Godly and Abberline stood over the bloated form of the former Naval Captain. Abberline was only slightly confused by the situation.

"Are you informing me, Godly, that we have been called in to solve a murder of an Officer of the Fleet?" he asked.

"Indeed, sir," Godly replied, he covered his nose with a handkerchief.

"Odd, don't you think?" Abberline asked.

"Possibly, but we have clearance to do whatever we have to in order to solve the mystery,"

"Some mystery, what sort of Captain was he, you think?" Abberline inspected a wound that looked suspiciously like a bullet wound. Godly was silent for a few moments.

"I'm not sure,"

"Neither am I," Abberline muttered, with his pencil he tried to get a look into some of the pockets. All were empty, which meant that either this murder was a robbery, or there had been something important that the Captain had….and he was murdered for it.

"Let us pay a visit to the docks, sir," Abberline said.

* * *

It hadn't been easy to get aboard the ship that had reported their Captain missing. However, in the end Abberline and Godly were admitted by the First Left-tenant. They held their meeting in the officer's quarters. Abberline and Godly were treated to a top of rum as well.

"Tell me, Mr. Norington, why do you sail under a Captain if you are indeed a Commodore?" Abberline asked.

"I was called to London for my next assignment, sir," Norington replied stiffly.

"And did you happen to see the Captain leaving at all?" Abberline inspected the Commodore for any sort of feeling. But a man of the sea and with the caliber the Commodore had, he didn't easily give up any emotions whatsoever.

"I did, he was going to meet his wife,"

"Wife? Interesting,"

"I hope you know that this is important, Captain Graves is a hero in the Navy," Norington said.

"Oh, I know, Commodore, I know all about Captain Graves," Abberline sat back in his chair, the cup of rum forgotten.

"It seems to me sir, that with the status of Captain Graves, that possibly, he had something that someone else wanted,"

"Such as?" the Commodore asked.

"That I am not sure of since I have come into the situation half through. However, I assure you sir, that if his murder wasn't that of a spree of the moment robbery, that the situation is worse than we have been led to believe," Abberline informed the man.

"He wasn't carrying anything,"

"Ah, so you do know something?" Abberline propped an eyebrow at the man. The other officers in the room sat stiffly, Godly was inspecting the Commodore, but as Abberline had all ready concluded, the Commodore was as strong as brick.

"He didn't have anything, because I have it," Commodore Norington said.

"Ah," Abberline shook his head. His internal curiosity coming to the fore front, but he didn't want to ask what it was out right, it would slow him down but he wanted Norington to give him the information instead of being ordered too.

"So, the good Captain Graves was killed over something he didn't have, and how long was it till you reported the man missing?" Godly asked.

"Two days, Captain Graves took two days leave," a random Officer informed them.

"That has to be enough time to do what need to be done then…and the wife, where does she live?" Godly asked.

"The Widow Graves lives on Baker's Street," Norington gave them a look.

"Thank you, please, don't move this ship till our investigation is through," Abberline informed the man before he and Godly made their way out of the Officer's Berth.

"That was bold of you, Inspector," Godly commented as they emerged on deck.

"I have to be," Abberline replied.

"So, now we visit the widow?"

"Indeed, Mr. Godly, I believe so,"

* * *

Captain Jack Sparrow had paid a visit to London once in a while. He didn't much like London, not since his run in with Todd down on Fleet Street. But he had heard that the murderous barber had been hanged when his crimes had been found out. Even his accomplice, the beautiful Mrs. Lovett had died (from poison, or so the story went). However, Jack Sparrow wasn't going near Fleet Street, it was full of the most unsavory characters the Pirate Captain ever had the pleasure of meeting. He much preferred Tortuga over that of Fleet Street.

His ship docked along the quay; besides the British Royal Navy, only the East India Trading Ships could get first choice docking. Jack was glad to have this mission over with, he had a time of it out running pirates he had made brief acquaintances of during his youth and keeping the cargo safe. He didn't want to be a pirate and that meant that the cargo he had he would fight over. He had heard of other EITC Captain's being punished by the branding of "Pirate" for little more than taking bribes. Losing a cargo would ensure the future his family wanted for him.

Jack sighed; he didn't want to think of the family reunion he was missing. Not that he minded, he tended to get loads of bruises when family was about. But he honestly didn't want to show up with an EITC ship and then have loyal men of the EITC snitch on him for visiting family. It was better just to stay away. Till the men were loyal to him, not that that was going to happen any time soon since half of them were Shang-highed. But, he was glad that he took on a couple of men; one being William Turner, and the other Victor Benedict. William was a sea man before he started serving on _The Wicked Wench_; he soon became Jack's second in command, Victor was a boy of nine of which Jack had picked up from a pirate ship he had effectively attacked in order to get his cargo back. (It had changed hands three times before that, but it was all intact) since the boy had started serving on his vessel, he had become jolly in his demeanor. It was nice to see.

As soon as the ship was safely docked, Jack had his men start unloading. The cargo was to go straight to the EITC warehouse to be counted by other employed in that line of work. Jack was to go see Becket and inform him of the successful mission.

"Mr. Turner, your in charge till I get back, savvy?" Jack said to the other man. He dusted off the dark blue coat he wore. It was almost brand new, even with a year at sea, Jack had taken good care of it. Bill Turner nodded his head at his Captain, "Aye, Aye Captain," he saluted. Jack nodded, he loved that title. He loved it a lot.

* * *

"How many times did it trade hands?" Beckett asked stiffly.

"Four, sir, but it is all intact, I made sure of it," Jack replied. The man stood in front of the superior man. He wore a white wig to blend in with the surround aristocracy of the EITC. Jack detested the tradition, but knew that he couldn't very well throw it out the window as he liked to do with so many others; especially when it came to family tradition.

"Good, good, take some leave, Captain Sparrow, I will want you here the first of next month, that gives you two weeks," Beckett said.

"Aye, sir," Jack replied. He was dismissed and was glad to make a quick escape. How he detested that man, for whatever reason, Beckett could hardly be trusted. Jack just couldn't figure out why.

* * *

"I told you had gotten the wrong man," a boy of nearly eighteen, dressed in a Mid-shipman uniform was glaring at another man. This man could hardly be seen because of the shadows he was immersed in, however, one could tell that this man was of third class material by the way his clothing was patched.

"It ain't me fault that the Cap'n didn't have what we needed," the man replied in a French accent.

"So you say, t'was really the Commodore who has the papers, he still has 'em," the boy had reverted to an accent as well. To any passers-by this would mean that neither was British.

"You're serving on that there ship, laddy, I think you should get the papers," the man replied.

"Sir, I was thinking the same thing," the boy nodded. Several moments later the two went their own separate ways.

* * *

"What now, we have no suspects and one dead body," Godly said.

"I'm not sure, if the Commodore has the papers and he stay's aboard his ship, I don't think whoever killed Graves will get to him. I don't think Graves was killed by someone he knew," Abberline replied. They walked up Baker's street for the correct number that the Widow Graves lived.

"The Captain must have made some good income for a place like this," Godly said. Bakers Street was one of the wealthier neighborhoods of London. Abberline wondered if the place hadn't been lent out to the Captain and his family. But refrained from saying anything.

"Do you think she knows?" Godly asked when they found the correct stoop.

"There is only one way to find out," Abberline replied. He knocked on the door swiftly.

* * *

a/n – Okay, please review! I kind of have a partial plot for this. But I thought it was just too interesting not to post. Please review and let me know what you think of it.

Ta,

Dizzy


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Summary – Abberline has a vision.

A/N – Anything in bold is either a vision or denotes another language. English translations are provided.

**WARNING, WARNING, WARNING -- I do not condone drug use of any sort. I am not even a heavy drinker. THe most I have had is Bacardi Silver's and wine. In no way am I encouraging anyone to drink or do drugs. The only reason why such are in this story is because it has already been established by the writers and directors of the movie's in question. **

Disclaimer -- I do not own a thing

--

**Treacherous Waters**

**Part 2 – Visions**

**I pretend to work and they pretend to pay me – Anonymous**

**--**

_**He was asleep. At least, he was supposed to be asleep. However, he had somehow found himself roaming the streets of London for no apparent reason. Everything around him was a hazy green. Soon, he heard voices, but they weren't English. **_

_**"Ont fait vous trouver le?"**_

_**(Did you get it?)**_

_**"Pas de , il souvenir le fermer à tout moment."**_

_**(No, he keeps it on him at all times)**_

_**Abberline was left at a loss for what these two men were talking about. He could tell that they were completely French – which meant one or two things. But that wasn't important right now. Right now he had to concentrate on the vision. **_

_**"Si nous l'échec ça mission vous savez we'll être mor,"**_

_**(You know that if we do not complete this mission we will be dead…)**_

_**"Don't être tellement une minet we'll trouver là papiers d'identité et à cette époque-là Roi Louie can ôter Angleterre," the other man, who was more or less a young boy waved his hand at his partner.**_

_**(Don't be such a pussy, we'll get those papers and then King Louie can take out England,)**_

_**"Vous aviez mieux espérer nous trouver là papiers d'identité précédemment quelqu'un gets onto notre l'usine,"**_

_**(You had better hope that we get those papers before someone gets onto our plans )**_

_**The vision started to fade, even though Abberline tried to keep it. **_

He woke with a start; he was still in the bath tub where he had dozed off after work the night before. The water was still kind of warm so he hadn't been asleep for long. But maybe, just maybe he had seen something important. He got up, forgoing a towel as he went into his bedroom. He pulled on some trousers and a shirt before turning his mind over to the local political games of the day.

If his suspicions were true; there was more to this than there was to this.

--

**Mrs. Starling Graves, wife to Naval Hero Captain Graves,** looked as if she had been crying. Her eyes were red and she sniffled a bit. Her brown hair was pulled back in a bun and she wore a dressing gown over her night shift. Abberline and Godly averted their eyes.

"Oh, I'm s-sorry…ever since my husband died I haven't been myself," she said, sniffling into a handkerchief.

"I'm sorry 'bout your loss, ma'am," Godly said.

"Please, come in, you're the Inspector?" Starling asked.

"Yes, Mrs. Graves," Abberline replied. They stepped into the house. As impressed of the out side as they had been, Godly and Abberline were a bit more impressed with the inside.

Tapestries that were very old and very expensive hung on the walls; dark woods decorated the walls with a cadenza and a mirror. There was a bouquet of dead flowers in a crystal vase. Abberline noted that, apparently, Mrs. Graves was truly a grieving widow.

"I've called Abigail to bring in some tea," Mrs. Graves said.

"Thank you," Godly replied.

"Mrs. Graves, how often do you see your husband?" Abberline asked.

"His missions are important to the Crown. He's gone for long months at a time. At least, he was. Now, I'll never see him again…" she sniffed.

"How are you able to take care of the house?" Godly asked.

"I have a house account; money is put into it every week for expenses,"

"What are the expenses?" Abberline pushed.

"Well, the house payment to the bank, I have cleaning done twice a week, groceries, the normal – why?"

"Jut wondering. It's my job to sate my curiosity," Abberline replied.

"My husband is dead!" Starling replied angrily.

"And I'll get to the bottom of it and you shall have your closure. You'll find another man to settle down with and have children or what have you," Abberline said.

Godly rolled his eyes, sometimes he wanted to punch Abberline when he got like this.

"I won't ever marry anyone else! Jerald was the only man worth having!" Starling started sobbing with earnest now.

"Sorry, Mrs. Graves, we'll be going now," Abberline said.

--

Godly punched Abberline square in the nose; "I hate doing that, but that was inconsiderate and mean!"

"Good god, Godly!" Abberline closed his eyes and put his nose to rights.

"Serves you right," Godly said, continuing down the alley.

"If I didn't think I deserved that, you'd be out of a job," Abberline glared at his partners back.

--

Captain Jack Sparrow took one look at the town house and rolled his eyes. As a Kings Man, Jack expected his cousin to live in more of a wreck. But, the brick house did look pleasant. He knocked on the door. To the side there was an open window, he could smell traces of opium and heard someone splashing water.

A few moments later, a man with dripping hair covered in a thread bare robe (and making a pool of water on the wood floor) opened the door. He took one look at Jack before pulling him into a hug.

"Jack, I didn't expect you here," Frederick said.

"Freddy, why wouldn't I visit the only cousin who decided on a decent job?" Jack asked.

"Decent? Only because of the money Dad left me," Frederick replied.

"Oh, there is that," Jack said. He entered the house. "Does Aunt Mary know about your habit?" Jack asked. The opium pipe was still lit and Abberline picked it up for long slow draw.

"It's the only way I can focus my visions," Frederick said.

"Visions…ah, I forgot," Jack shrugged.

"Rum?" Frederick replied.

"Gladly,"

Frederick went to his liquor cabinet and pulled out a tall bottle. He always had something on hand for any visitors he might get. Personally, he didn't drink. He got high.

"So, what are you doing now-a-days? Last time I saw you, I had to get you out of jail," Frederick said.

"I work for the EITC now,"

"You work for those bastards?" Frederick glared.

"I want to sail, I just don't want to be a pirate," Jack shrugged, he took the proffered glass.

"Damn it, Jack. Do you know what those people do?" Frederick shook his head.

"Yeah,"

"No, Jack – they're slavers,"

Jack almost coughed up the rum; "What?"

"How long have you worked for them?" Frederick asked.

"About three months now,"

"Bloody hell, you're next shipment is going to be slaves," Frederick said.

"You sound so sure of yourself,"

"I don't have visions about murderous doctors only, I have all sorts. This past month they have mostly been about you, tell me, what about the bullet wounds? You got shot, twice, on the right side,"

"How'd you…?"

"I told you I am a clairvoyant!"

"Right, is that why Aunt Marry told you to leave Pirates Cove?" Jack asked.

"No, it was part of the reason, I see things but I can't stop them," Frederick replied.

"So, you left and changed you last name,"

"If my superiors knew I was a Sparrow, they'd use me to get the family,"

"I know how that is," Jack sighed.

"I know,"

"Is there anything you don't know?" Jack glared.

"No, one way or another I usually figure it out," Frederick sighed. By this time the bath water had gone cold but he still smoked his pipe. Jack could tell the man was high. Well, he'd be drunk here soon.

"Do you want to stay here?" Frederick asked.

"Sure, I have no where else to be," Jack nodded.

--

Jack woke with a snort. He slept in the one other bed room his cousin's house boasted. It was slightly small with a queen sized bed of old quilts, a threadbare rug and a window. The wash room was across the hall, and Jack utilized it. When he did how his face down stares, he found that Frederick had left a five pound note and a letter that explained he didn't have anything in the house and for Jack to feel free to pick some things up.

Not to mention, the Head Constable was holding a small dinner party that evening and Frederick had to go and was wondering if Jack would go with him. Jack knew how Frederick hated it, but he also mentioned how it would help Jack out a bit. Jack wasn't sure what his cousin was getting at. But, he figured that since he had nothing else to do…

--

"French? As in spies?" Godly asked. He and Abberline were making another round of the docks. They had already chatted with Commodore Norington – who only imparted to them that the papers were of national security. Which in turn made Abberline sure that the two men in his dream had to be spies of some sort.

"Just because a man speaks French does not make them a spy," Abberline replied. He hadn't seen neither boy nor man from his vision. However, he did tell the Commodore to keep the papers someplace safe. Someplace no one would think to look. Abberline figured that was what Captain Graves would have done.

"Right, it could be any body,"

"It could be a…naval hero,"

"Are you bloody mad!?" Godly asked. Abberline gave him a look that quite plainly said not to ask stupid questions, or questions of which one knew the answer too.

"Sir, I am merely speculating," Abberline said.

"Apparently," Godly just rolled his eyes.

--

The French Quarter of London was basically a slum, most of the people were French, some were English and most (if not all) the women were prostitutes. This didn't make his job any easier, but traipsing about and letting any spies know that someone was on to them would most likely make them run. The sooner the spies put their heels to the wind and fled London (without the plans) the better.

Frederick James Abberline made his way into a pub, he ordered a drink and sat at a corner table, He had a newspaper and his smokes to his right. Being left handed was terribly weird, but he had never liked writing with his right and so usually this oddity was over looked or was a conversation starter.

The best thing about seemingly being embroiled in your own business is the fact that you can keep tabs on others around you. Of course you had to look as if you aren't interested, which meant reading a bit and turning pages. Abberline had a method he used most regularly when on a case. He would look through the paper briefly before folding it to the first page and starting with the first article. Moving his eyes and reading silently to himself but moving his lips as he did so usually made his suspects over look him. If one isn't paying attention than one can't know anything.

It was ten minutes later that Abberline recognized he boy from the vision. He still wore a midshipman's uniform; he had blond hair and blue eyes and the boy seemed to squint a lot. The boy took out a pre-made cigarette and lit it up. He noted the people around him; he took a look at Abberline but dismissed the man as being nothing dangerous to him.

Soon, another man approached, this one was round, with meaty paws and ill fitting clothes.

**"Taquiner , votre tardive!" **

**(Kid, you're late!)**

**"Vont à enfer." **the boy replied.

**(Go to hell)**

**"Se que autour de les papiers? les Principal nécessité leur précédemment il laisse."**

**(What about the papers? The Major needs them before he leaves town)**

Both the boy and the man (who had remained un-named) looked around. Neither noted anyone who was listening in on them. Satisfied the boy went on.

**"Les Contre-amiral fait prendre leur tout plus de. I've regardé à travers son mer torse et pelage quand il devait sortir one deck pour une moment ou deux."**

**(The Commodore doesn't have them any more. I've looked through his sea chest and coat when he had to go out on deck for a moment or two.)**

**"Peut-être il fait prendre le." **

**(Maybe he doesn't have it)** the man replied. He stroked his chin while he thought.

**"Qui would il élasticité le trop de à cette époque-là?"**

**(Who would he give it to then?)** the man asked, more himself than the boy.

**"MOI don't savons , mais vous devez prendre une de votre hommes suivre lui quand donc ils can." **

**(I don't know, but you should have one of your men follow him whenever they can.)** the boy replied.

This seemed to trigger the ending of the conversation as the man walked away. Abberline watched the boy till he too left. However, Abberline waited another hour and a half before he left the pub.

--

Jack buttoned the shirt; it was one of Frederick's best. Frederick had gotten home early from work to get ready in a nice black suite. Jack wore a brown suite and for once since he had gotten into port, he had bathed.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into it," Jack muttered.

"Trust me on this one," Frederick smiled at his cousin in a friendly fashion.

"Fine, but if this turns out terribly, I'm going to keel haul you," Jack said.

"Sorry, cousin, not going to happen, I've seen my death and you being involved was no part of it," Frederick replied.

Jack's blood ran cold, he wondered how his cousin could be so free and joke about death when it scared the shit out of him.

--

A/N – Okay, there we go. I hope you all like it. Even if Boondocksaint's only reads it.


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